Bellows

The storm didn't bring any rain,

just a wind that knocked the transformer out

and left the house hollow as an old bone.

I’m sitting on the linoleum,

waiting for the fridge to hum back to life,

but it stays dead.

Now there is only the scrape

of air against that one dry patch

at the very back of my throat.

A wet thud in the ribs.

I sound like a machine

someone forgot to turn off

in a building where everyone else

has already gone home.